


Hand-to-Hand Training Day 1

by Velynven



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 04:01:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4333104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velynven/pseuds/Velynven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>NSFW-ish (mention of sexual activities but no action),  Nonaggressive Pinning Trope </p><p>This occurs a few days before “reach and flexibility”.  Shepard has admitted her feelings for Garrus to herself, but hasn't yet decided on how to deal with them.</p><p>She’s learned that Garrus is a hand-to-hand specialist and requested for him to take her under his wing.  Their first training session goes relatively as expected but takes a very awkward turn as it intensifies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hand-to-Hand Training Day 1

Finally, after days of careful – alright, maybe it was overt – prodding, Shepard was able to arrange a time to start her hand-to-hand training with Garrus.  Out of want for privacy, they’d chosen the battery, though it was a little cramped and that hampered maneuverability. The winning argument for going with it anyway was that in most cases where she’d find herself in melee combat, she’d be cornered in a tight space with no immediate exits.  Why not simulate that now?

So she headed to the battery, dressed down in leggings and a t-shirt, wearing a pair of light weight, flexible shoes, with her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

Garrus was considerably dressed down as well.  His arms were completely uncovered and he was barefoot.  The plain tunic and pants he wore were both made out of something similar to spandex, if not the material itself, and clung to him tightly, revealing many of the contours of the carapace beneath it.  Such a strange thing, to be reminded of how inhuman your best friend was.  And how, with a few happy words, none of that mattered.  

Nor did the fact that he was repeatedly kicking her ass.  Hard.  But that was the sort of training she wanted.  The type she flourished under. He’d repeatedly knocked the wind out of her in a quick succession of three ‘rounds’, each one lasting no more than 10 seconds.

“Don’t you  _ever_  make it easy on me,” she’d nearly growled from her uncomfortable position on the floor when he’d asked her if he should back off.  The laugh that’d earned her might well have been the best she’d ever heard from him.  It’d also earned her a break as it’d taken them a few moments to regain composure.  Then it was on again.  Each quick, brutal beat down followed by a detailed step-by-step walkthrough of how he’d taken her down and how she could break her way out of it.

_Here, bend back on your opponent’s elbow._

_Force it the other way._

_Or the small spur on the inside.  You have a similar bone,_ he’d shown her with a light touch to his inner elbow _. Hit it, even just a tap._

Her reward was a pleased hum when she executed the move with appreciable speed and accuracy, never actually putting enough pressure into the maneuver to cause any harm.  

Though when she realized the ‘small spur’ he’d mentioned was just a slightly more protrusive edge to their equivalent of a funny bone, she couldn’t resist nailing him at least once.  That… ended with her flat on her back, laughter spilling uncontrollably from her despite the heavy impact she’d made with the mat.  

“So worth it,” she coughed when she caught the uncomfortable grimace that had claimed his face.  His response was something akin to a growl that only made her laugh harder.

–

The floor.  Again.   Of course.  She was starting to think this was where she belonged.  Each time she made progress, he promptly put her in her place.  

But this time it was different.   Garrus pinned her down, hands steady but light on her wrists.  She could break out if she wished but it was clear that he wasn’t done teaching so she chose to stay in place, awaiting his next move as he hovered over her.  His face was only inches from hers.  Closer than he’d ever been, his breath wafting across her face and neck.  Hot.   Intensity burned in his eyes.  Her stomach fluttered to have his gaze so fixed on her.  She wanted to kiss him, was praying he’d kiss her.  But if she was honest, she wanted far more than just a kiss.  She wanted him to sink down to her.  She wanted to feel his body pressed against hers, writhing in a tangle of limbs, his mouth hungry as he used it to explore her.

Her desire sparked a ripple of heat and excitement between her legs.  The sudden and unabashed arousal panicked her: he was too good a friend to lose over an unwelcome sexual advance. Shepard let her gut take control before she could act on her lust.

She headbutted him, slamming her forehead into his with more force than she had the krogan ambassador on Tuchanka.  It hurt like hell, and she’d probably split her brow on his visor, but it had him reeling backwards, releasing the pin he’d had on her.  

From there, the moves were easy, second nature as the skills used against a human worked just as effectively, if not more so thanks to the sensitive flesh laying over the turian hips.  He grunted and flinched further away when her foot found purchase at the juncture between thigh and pelvis and she pushed off.  Then he froze when her hand wrapped firmly around his spur and the atmosphere shifted suddenly from happy and light to an air as tense as their final stand-off with Saren.  

Garrus grunted again and while vocally silent, his subharmonics were busy making an astonishing array of new-to-her sounds.  She hoped that whatever they were, they were not expressing displeasure at her for her chosen tactics.  

His verbal silence was lasting disconcertingly long.  There were no comments on her technique as there had been before.  Even worse was the absence of a friendly jeer directed at her choice of the headbutt.  A half-assed one would be welcomed at this point.  He was  _frozen_  over her, his eyes locked on her face, his expression wearing nothing but shock.  Worry was creeping up into her quickly.

Shepard looked away from his face, suddenly shy and embarrassed.  She released her grip on his spur, removed her foot from his hip and crawled away a short distance to give him space.  Garrus rocked back into a crouch and his eyes fell to the ground before he closed them and he sucked a deep breath.  

She checked him over, desperate to know the cause of his suddenly not-Garrus-like behavior.  His forehead was clear of obvious damage so his reaction likely wasn’t out of pain, unless turian hips really were  _that_  sensitive when a human foot was jammed into them.  That thought brought her eyes lower, to a noticeable rise between his pelvic plates where she was certain there hadn’t been one before and it didn’t take a genius to realize what the change was.  

 _Oh._  She glued her eyes on his face before he could open his once more and catch her looking.  At last he stood, and did not offer her his hand to help her rise.

She responded by pulling her legs in and sitting cross-legged, gazing patiently up at him.  “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asked as blithely and innocently as she could.  Considering what may have been caught in the crossfire with her foot-to-the-hip move, she supposed that was a legitimate question.  He shook his head and turned from her, muttering something unintelligible as he reached for his water.

He took a drink, a long one, and for the briefest of moments she wondered if telling him she was aroused, too, was a good idea.  

No.  _Hell_  no.  In the history of bad ideas, that was quite possibly the worst. If this came up, jokingly, at some point in the future, only then could she confess.  And massive volumes of alcohol would be needed.  

So she waited, taking the momentary silence to tighten her shoelaces and inspect her stinging brow.  It had split and she was surprised there wasn’t blood running down her face yet.  Perhaps the cybernetics were to thank.  She shuddered as she remembered the distinct  _glow_  of the scars which marred her face when she’d awoken on the Lazarus Station.  The sound of her turian sparring partner clearing his throat was enough to call her attention back to him.

“Shepard. We’re done for the day,” he stated, affecting a cold, detached tone, which was pitifully faked.  

The right response, the one that said she didn’t see it, didn’t distinctly understand why he needed this to end immediately, was also the cruelest in the circumstance.  Instead of just saying ‘okay’ and leaving, which she felt to be entirely too cold, she settled for something not quite as oblivious as engaging in their normal banter would have been.  

“It’s not because I played dirty, is it?” she asked, rising to her feet and moving to gather her towel and water. Headbutts certainly weren’t a part of any past hand-to-hand training she’d had.

He shook his head once, firmly, still yet to look at her.  “That was unexpected but effective.  I wouldn’t have taught it.”  He was silent again for a moment then finally turned back to her, a towel casually hanging in his hand, concealing the erection.  

“It’s a good note to end on.  And you’re not as hard-headed as I thought. I said I didn’t want to break my C.O. and I meant it.  Do me a favor and have Chakwas check you out?” he tried,  his feigned coldness replaced with a surprisingly tender tone.  

“Yeah…” she drawled.  “I might need stitches.  And thanks.  This was really useful,” she replied honestly.  

“Yeah. It was,” he agreed.  His gaze dropped to the ground and he scratched at the back of his head.  “I’ll uh… I’ll let you know when I have time to do this again,” he added hastily, nothing but conflict in his voice and on his face.

“Sure,” she agreed.  Mild.  Bland, leaving the option for him to refuse further training sessions wide open.  An unspoken apology.  “Thanks, Garrus.”  She shot him a full, warm smile, which he thankfully looked up in time to catch, before she left through the doors.  The second they closed behind her, she let her body fall back against them and looked up, letting loose a deep sigh.

“Did that really just…?” she muttered to herself.  Shepard huffed in disbelief and good humor, certain he’d manage to laugh it off, too. Shepard touched her brow again and headed off to find the doctor. “Well, at least she can laugh at this one in earnest.”  


End file.
